Narrative of William W. Brown, a fugitive slave

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NARRATIVE

WILLIAM W. BROWN,

FUGITIVE SLAVE

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

Is there not some chosen curse,

Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven,
Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man
Who gains his fortune from the blood of souls?

COWPER.

BOSTON:
PUBLISHED AT THE ANTI-SLAVERY OFFICE,

No. 25 CORNHILL.

1847.

■Bs8

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847,

BY WILLIAM W. BROWJV',

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.

Jlndreics ^ Prentiss, Printers.

TO WELLS BROWN, OF OHIO.

Thirteen years ago, I came to your door,
a weary fugitive from chains and stripes. I
was a stranger, and you took me in. I was
hungry, and you fed me. Naked was I, and
you clothed me. Even a name by which to
be known among men, slavery had denied
me. You bestowed upon m.e your own. Base
indeed should 1 be, if I ever forget what I
owe to you, or do anything to disgrace that
honored name !

As a slight testimony of my gratitude to
my earliest benefactor, I take the liberty to
inscribe to you this little Narrative of the

IV DEDICATION.

sufferings from which I was fleeing when you
had compassion upon me. In the multitude
that you have succored, it is very possible
that you may not remember me ; but until I
forget God and myself, 1 can never forget
you.

Your grateful friend,

William Wells Brown.

LETTER

EDMUND QUINCY, ESQ

DEDHAiM, July 1, 1847.
TO WILLIAM W. BROWx\.

My Dear Friend : — I heartily thank you for the privilege
of reading the maniisCTipt of your Narrative. I have read it
with deep interest and strong emotion.' I am much mistaken
if it be not greatly successful and eminently useful. It pre-
sents a different ])hase of the infernal slave-system from
that portrayed in the admirable story of Mr. Douglass, and
gives us a glimpse of its hideous cruelties in other j)ortions
of its domain.

Your opportunities of observing the workings of tliis
accursed system have been singularly great. Your experi-
ences in the Field, in the House, and especially on the River
in the service of the slave-trader. Walker, have been such as
few individuals have had ; — no one, certainly, wlio has been
competent to describe them. What I have admired, and

VI LETTER FROM EDMUND QUINCY, ESQ.

marvelled at, in your Narrative, is the simplicity and calm-
ness with which you describe scenes and actions which
might well "move the very stones to rise and mutiny"
against the National Institution which makes them possible.

You will perceive that I have made very sparing use of
your flattering permission to alter what you had written.
To correct a few errors, which appeared to be merely cleri-
cal ones, committed in the hurry of comj)Osition, under
unfavorable circumstances, and to suggest a few curtail-
ments, is all that I have ventured to do. I should be a bold
man, as well as a vain one, if I should attempt to improve
yoift- descriptions of what you have seen and suffered.
Some of the scenes are not unworthy of De Foe himself.

I trust and believe that your Narrative will have a wide
circulation. I am sure it deserves it. At least, a man must
be differently constituted from me, who can rise from the
perusal of your Narrative without feeling that he understands
slavery better, and hates it worse, than he ever did before.

I am, very faithfully and respectfully,

Your friend,

EDMUND QUINCY.

PREFACE

The friends of freedom may well congratulate each other
on the appearance of the following Narrative. It adds
another volume to the rapidly increasing anti-slavery litera-
ture of the age. It has been remarked by a close observer
of human nature, "Let me make the songs of a nation, and
I care not who makes its laws ; " and it may with equal truth
be said, that, among a reading people like our own, their
books will at least give character to their laws. It is an
influence which goes forth noiselessly upon its mission, but
fails not to find its way to many a warm heart, to kindle on
the altar tliereof the fires of freedom, which will one day
break forth in a living flamQ to consume oppression.

This little book is a voice from the prison-house, unfold-
ing the deeds of darkness Avhich are there perpetrated. Our
cause has received efficient aid from this source. The
names of those who have come from thence, and battled
manfully for the right, need not to be recorded here. The
works of sonic of them are an enduring monument of praise,
and their perpetual record shall be found in the grateful
hearts of the redeemed bondman.

VIU PREFACE.

Few persons have had greater facilities for becoming
acquainted with slavery, in all its horrible aspects, than
William W. Brown. He has been behind the curtain*
He has visited its secret chambers. Its iron has entered his
own soul. The dearest ties of nature have been riven in his
own person. A mother has been cruelly scourged before
his own eyes. A father, — alas! slaves have no father. A
brother has been made the subject of its tender mercies. A
sister has been given up to the irresponsible control of the
pale-faced oppressor. This nation looks on approvingly.
The American Union sanctions the deed. The Constitution
shields the criminals. American religion sanctifies the
crime. But the tide is turning. Already, a mighty under-
current is sweeping onward. The voice of warning, of
remonstrance, of rebuke, of entreaty, has gone forth. Hand
is linked in hand, and heart mingles with heart, in this great
work of the slave's deliverance.

The convulsive throes of the monster, even now, give
evidence of deep wounds.

The %vi*iter of this Nan-ative was hired by his master to a
^^ soul-driver,''^ and has witnessed all the horrors of the traffic,
from the buying up of human cattle in the slave-breeding
States, which produced a constant scene of separating the
victims from all those whom they loved, to their final sale
in the southern market, to be worked up in seven years, or
given over to minister to the lust of southern Christians.

Many harrowing scenes are graphically portrayed ; and
yet with that simplicity and ingenuousness which carries
with it a conviction of the truthfulness of tlie picture.

PREFACE. IX

This book will do much to unmask those who have
"clothed themselves in the livery of the court of heaven" to
cover up the enormity of their deeds.

During the past three years, the author has devoted his
entire energies to the anti-slavery cause. Laboring under
all the disabilities and disadvantages growing out of his
education in slavery — subjected, as he had been from his
birth, to all the wrongs and deprivations incident to his
condition — he yet went forth, impelled to the work by a
love of liberty — stimulated by the remembrance of his own
sufferings — urged on by the consideration that a mother,
brothers, and sister, were still grinding in the prison-house
of bondage, in common with three millions of our Father's
children — sustained by an unfaltering faith in the omnipo-
tence of truth and the final triumph of justice — to plead the
cause of the slave, and by the eloquence of earnestness
carried conviction to many minds, and enlisted the sympathy
and secured the co-operation of many to the cause.

His labors have been chiefly confined to Western New
York, where he has secured many warm friends, by his
untiring zeal, persevering energy, continued fidelity, and
universal kindness.

Reader, are you an Abolitionist? What have you done
for the slave ? What are you doing in his behalf? What
do you purpose to do ? There is a great work before us !
Who will be an idler now? This is the great humanitary
movem^ent of the age, swallowing up, for the time being, all
other questions, comparatively speaking. The course of

X PREFACE.

human events, in obedience to the unchangeable laws of our
being, is fast hastening the final crisis, and

" Have ye chosen, O my people, on whose party ye shall stand,

Ere the Doom from its worn sandal shakes the dust against our land ? "

Are you a Christian ? This is the carrying out of practical
Christianity ; and there is no other. Christianity is practical
in its very nature and essence. It is a life, springing out of
a soul imbued with its spirit. Are you a friend of the mis-
sionary cause ? This is the greatest missionary enterprize
of the day. Three millions of Christian, law-manufactured
heathen are longing for the glad tidings of the Gospel of
freedom. Are you a friend of the Bible ? Come, then, and
help us to restore to these millions, whose eyes have
been bored out by slaver)^, their sight, thra they may see to
read the Bible. Do you love God whom you have not seen ?
Then manifest that love, by restoring to your brother whom
you have seen, his rightful inheritance, of which he has been
so long and so cruelly deprived.

It is not for a single generation alone, numbering three
millions — sublime as would be that effort — that we are
working. It is for humanity, the wide world over, not only
now, but for all coming time, and all future generations: —

" For he who settles Freedom's principles,
Writes the death-warrant of all tyranny."

It is a vast work — a glorious enterprize — worthy the
unswerving devotion of the entire life-time of the great and
the good.

PREFACE. XI

Slaveholding and slaveholders must be rendered disrepu-
table and odious. They must be stripped of their respecta-
bility and Christian reputation. They must be treated as
" MEN-STEALERs — guilty of the highest kind of theft, and
sinners of the first rank." Their more guilty accomplices in
the persons of northern apologists, both in Church and State,
must be placed in the same category. Honest men must be
made to look upon their crimes with the same abhorrence
and loathing, with Avhich they regard the less guilty robber
and assassin, until

"The common damned shun their society,
And look upon themselves as fiends less foul."

When a just estimate is placed upon the crime of slave-
holding, the work will have been accomplished, and the
glorious day ushered in —

" When man nor woman in all our wide domain,
Shall buy, or sell, or hold, or be a slave."

J. C. HATHAWAY.

Farmington, N. Y., 1847.

r

NARRATIVE

CHAPTER I.

I WAS born in Lexington, Ky. The man who
stole me as soon as I was born, recorded the births
of all the infants which he claimed to be born his
property, in a book which he kept for that purpose.
My mother's name was Elizabeth. She had seven
children, viz : Solomon, Leander, Benjamin, Joseph,
Millford, Elizabeth, and myself. No two of us were
children of the same father. My father's name, as
I learned from my mother, was George Higgins.
He was a white man, a relative of my master, and
connected with some of the first families in Ken-
tucky.

My master owned about forty slaves, twenty-five
of whom were field hands. He removed from

14 NARRATIVE OF THE

Kentucky to Missouri, when I was quite young, and
settled thirty or forty miles above St. Charles, on
the Missouri, where, in addition to his practice as a
physician, he carried on milling, merchandizing and
farming. He had a large farm, the principal pro-
ductions of which were tobacco and hemp. The
slave cabins were situated on the back part of the
farm, with the house of the overseer, whose name
was Grove Cook, in their midst. He had the entire
charge of the farm, and having no family, was
allowed a woman to keep house for him, whose
business it was to deal out the provisions for the
hands.

A woman was also kept at the quarters to do the
cooking for the field hands, who were summoned
to their unrequited toil every morning at four o'clock,
by the ringing of a bell, hung on a post near the
house of the overseer. They were allowed half an
hour to eat their breakfast, and get to the field. At
half past four, a horn was blown by the overseer,
which was the signal to commence work ; and every
one that was not on the spot at the time, had to
receive ten lashes from the negro-whip, with which
the overseer always went armed. The handle was

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 15

about three feet long, with the butt-end filled with
lead, and the lash six or seven feet in length, made
of cowhide, with platted wire on the end of it.
This whip was put in requisition very frequently and
freely, and a small offence on the part of a slave fur-
nished an occasion for its use. During the time that
Mr. Cook was overseer, I was a house servant — a
situation preferable to that of a field hand, as I was
better fed, better clothed, and not obliged to rise at
the ringing of the bell, but about half an hour after.
I have often laid and heard the crack of the whip,
and the screams of the slave. My mother was a
field hand, and one morning was ten or fifteen min-
utes behind the others in getting into the field. As
soon as she reached the spot where they were at
work, the overseer commenced whipping her. She
cried, " Oh ! pray — Oh ! pray — Oh ! pray " —
these are generally the words of slaves, when im-
ploring mercy at the hands of their oppressors. I
heard her voice, and knew it, and jumped out of my
bunk, and went to the door. Though the field was
some distance from the house, I could hear every
crack of the whip, and every groan and cry of my
poor mother. I remained at the door, not daring

16 NARRATIVE OF THE

to venture any farther. Ths cold chills rr.n over
me, and I wept aloud. After giving her ten lashes,
the sound of the whip ceased, and I returned to my
bed, and found no consolation but in my tears. It
was not yet daylight.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 17

CHAPTER II.

My master being a political demagogue, soon
found those who were ready to put him into office,
for the favors he could render them ; and a few
years after his arrival in Missouri, he was elected to
a seat in the Legislature. In his absence from
home, everything was left in charge of Mr. Cooky
the overseer, and he soon became more tyrannical
and cruel. Among ihe slaves on the plantation,
was one by the name of Randall. He was a man
about six feet high, and well-proportioned, and
known as a man of great strength and power. He
was considered the most valuable and able-bodied
slave on the plantation ; but no matter how good or
useful a slave may be, he seldom escapes the lash.
But it was not so with Randall. He had been on
the plantation since my earliest recollection, and I
had never known of his being flogged. No thanks
were due to the master or overseer for this. . I have
2

18 NARRATIVE OF THE

often heard him declare, that no white man should
ever whip him — that he would die first.

Cook, from the time that he came upon the plan-
tation, had frequently declared, that he could and
would flog any nigger that was put into the field to
work under him. My master had repeatedly told
him not to attempt to whip Randall, but he was
determined to try it. As soon as he was left sole
dictator, he thought the time had come to put his
threats into execution. He soon began to find fault
with Randall, and threatened to whip him, if he did
not do better. One day he gave him a very hard
task, — more than he could possibly do ; and at
night, the task not being performed, he told Randall
that he should remember him the next morning.
On the following morning, after the hands had taken
breakfast. Cook called out to Randall, and told him
that he intended to whip him, and ordered him to
cross his hands and be tied. Randall asked why
he wished to whip him. He answered, because he
had not finished his task the day before. Randall
said that the task was too great, or he should have
done it. Cook said it made no difference, — he
should , whip him. Randall stood silent for a

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 19

moment, and then said, " Mr. Cook, I have always
tried to please you since you have been on the
plantation, and I find you are determined not to be
satisfied with my work, let me do as well as I may.
No man has laid hands on me, to whip me, for the
last ten years, and I have long since come to the
conclusion not to be whipped by any man living."
Cook, finding by Randall's determined look and
gestures, that he would resist, called three of the
hands from their work, and commanded them to
seize Randall, and tie him. The hands stood still ;
— they knew Randall — and they also knew him
to be a powerful man, and were afraid to grapple
with him. As soon as Cook had ordered the men
to seize him, Randall turned to them, and said —
" Boys, you all know me ; you know that I can
handle any three of you, and the man that lays
hands on me shall die. This white man can't whip
me himself, and therefore he has called you to help
him." The overseer was unable to prevail upon
them to seize and secure Randall, and finally
ordered them all to go to their work together.

Nothing was said to Randall by the overseer, for
more than a week. One morning, however, while

20 NARRATIVE OF THE

the hands were at work in the field, he came into
it, accompanied by three friends of liis, Thompson,
Woodbridge and Jones. They came up to where
Randall was at work, and Cook ordered him to
leave his work, and go with them to the barn. He
refused to go ; whereupon he was attacked by the
overseer and his companions, when he turned upon
them, and laid them, one after another, prostrate on
the ground. Woodbridge drew out his pistol, and
fired at him, and brought him to the ground by a
pistol ball. The others rushed upon him with their
clubs, and beat him over the head and face, until
they succeeded in tying him. He was then taken to
the barn, and tied to a beam. Cook gave him over
one hundred lashes with a heavy cowhide, had him
washed with salt and water, and left him tied during
the day. The next day he was untied, and taken
to a blacksmith's shop, and had a ball and chain
attached to his leg. He was compelled to labor in
the field, and perform the same amount of work
that the other hands did. When his master re-
turned home, he was much pleased to find that
Randall had been subdued in his absence.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 21

CHx\PTER III.

Soon afterwards, my master removed to the city
of St. Louis, and purchased a farm four miles from
there, which he placed under the charge of an over-
seer by the name of Friend Haskell. He was a
regular Yankee from New England. The Yankees
are noted for making the most cruel overseers.

My mother was hired out in the city, and I was
also hired out there to Major Freeland, who kept a
public house. He was formerly from Virginia, and
was a horse-racer, cock-fighter, gambler, and withal
an inveterate drunkard. There were ten or twelve
servants in the house, and when he was present, it
was cut and slash — knock down and drag out. In
his fits of anger, he would take up a chair, and
throw it at a servant; and in his more rational
moments, when he wished to chastise one, he would
tie them up in the smoke-house, and whip them ;
after which, he would cause a fire to be made of

22 NARRATIVE OF THE

tobacco stems, and smoke them. This he called
c( Virginia play J ^

I complained to my master of the treatment which
I received from Major Freeland ; but it made no
difference. He cared nothing about it, so long as
he received the money for my labor. After living
w^ith Major Freeland five or six months, I ran away,
and went into the woods back of the city ; and when
night came on, I made my way to my master's
farm, but was afraid to be seen, knowing that if Mr.
Haskell, the overseer, should discover me, I should
be again carried back to Major Freeland ; so I kept
in the woods. One day, while in the woods, I
heard the barking and howling of dogs, and in a
short time they came so near, that I knew them to
be the bloodhounds of Major Benjamin O'Fallon.
He kept five or six, to hunt runaway slaves with.

As soon as I was convinced that it was them, I
knew there was no chance of escape. I took refuge
in the top of a tree, and the hounds were soon at its
base, and there remained until the hunters came up
in a half or three quarters of an hour afterwards.
There were two men with the dogs, who, as soon
as they came up, ordered me to descend. I came

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 23

down, was tied, and taken to St. Louis jail. Major
Freeland soon made his appearance, and took me
out, and ordered me to follow him, which I did.
After we returned home, I was tied up in the smoke-
house, and was very severely whipped. After the
Major had flogged me to his satisfaction, he sent out
his son Robert, a young man eighteen or twenty
years of age, to see that I was well smoked. He
made a fire of tobacco stems, which soon set me to
coughing and sneezing. This, Robert told me, was
the way his father used to do to his slaves in Vir-
ginia. After giving me what they conceived to be a
decent smoking, I was untied and again set to work.
Robert Freeland was a " chip of the old block."
Though quite young, it was not unfrequently that
he came home in a state of intoxication. He is
now, I believe, a popular commander of a steamboat
on the Mississippi river. Major Freeland soon after
failed in business, and I was put on board the
steamboat Missouri, which plied between St. Louis
and Galena. The commander of the boat was
William B. Culver. I remained on her during the
sailing season, which was the most pleasant time for
Die that I had ever experienced. At the close of

24 NARRATIVE OF THE

navigation, I was hired to Mr. John Colburn, keeper
of the Missouri Hotel. He was from one of the Free
States ; but a more inveterate hater of the negro, I
do not believe ever walked on God's green earth.
This hotel was at that time one of the largest in the
city, and there were employed in it twenty or thirty
servants, mostly slaves.

Mr. Colburn was very abusive, not only to the
servants, but to his wife also, who was an excellent
woman, and one from whom I never knew a servant
to receive a harsh word ; but never did I know a
kind one to a servant from her husband. Among
the slaves employed in the hotel, was one by the
name of Aaron, who belonged to Mr. John F.
Darby, a lawyer. Aaron was the knife-cleaner.
One day, one of the knives was put on the table,
not as clean as it might have been. Mr. Colburn,
for this offence, tied Aaron up in the wood-house,
and gave him over fifty lashes on the bare back
with a cowhide, after which, he made me wash him
down with rum. This seemed to put him into
more agony than the whipping. After being untied,
he went home to his master, and complained of the
treatment which he had received, Mr. Darby

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 25

would give no heed to anything he had to say, but
sent him directly back. Colburn, learning that he
had been to his master with complaints, tied him up
again, and gave him a more severe whipping than
before. The poor fellow's back was literally cut to
pieces ; so much so, that he was not able to work
for ten or twelve days.

There was also, among the servants, a girl whose
master resided in the country. Her name was
Patsey. Mr. Colburn tied her up one evening, and
whipped her until several of the boarders came out
and begged him to desist. The reason for whipping
her was this. She was engaged to be married to a
man belonging to Major William Christy, who
resided four or five miles north of the city. Mr.
Colburn had forbid her to see John Christy. The
reason of this was said to be the regard which he
himself had for Patsey. She went to meeting that
evening, and John returned home with her. Mr.
Colburn had intended to flog John, if he came
within the inclosure ; but John knew too well the
temper of his rival, and kept at a safe distance ; —
so he took vengeance on the poor girl. If all the
slave-drivers had been called together, I do not think

26 NARRATIVE OF THE

a more cruel man than John Colburn, — and he too
a northern man, — could have been found among
them.

While living at the Missouri Hotel, a circum-
stance occurred which caused me great unhappiness.
My master sold my mother, and all her children,
except myself. They were sold to different persons
in the city of St. Louis.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 27

CHAPTER IV.

I WAS soon after taken from Mr. Cojburn's, and
hired to Elijah P. Lovejoy, who was at that time
pubhsher and editor of the " St. Louis Times."
My work, while with him, was mainly in the print-
ing office, waiting on the hands, working the press,
&c. Mr. Lovejoy was a very good man, and de-
cidedly the best master that I had ever had. I am
chiefly indebted to him, and to my employment in
the printing office, for what little learning I obtained
while in slavery.

Though slavery is thought, by some, to be mild
in Missouri, when compared with the cotton, sugar
and rice growing States, yet no part of our slave-
holding country, is more noted for the barbarity of
its inhabitants, than St. Louis. It was here that
Col. Harney, a United States officer, whipped a
slave woman to death. It was here that Francis
McLitosh, a free colored man from Pittsburgh, was

28 NARRATIVE OF THE

taken from the steamboat Flora, and burned at the
stake. During a residence of eight years in this
city, numerous cases of extreme cruelty came under
my own observation; — to record them all, would
occupy more space than could possibly be allowed in
this little volume. I shall, therefore, give but a few
more, in addition to what I have already related.

Capt. J. B. Brunt, who resided near my master,
had a slave named John. He was his body servant,
carriage driver, &c. On one occasion, w^hile driving
his master through the city, — the streets being very
muddy, and the horses going at a rapid rate, —
some mud spattered upon a gentleman by the name
of Robert More. More was determined to be re-
venged. Some three or' four months after this
occurrence, he purchased John, for the express pur-
pose, as he said, ''to tame the d — d nigger." After
the purchase, he took him to a blacksmith's shop,
and had a ball and chain fastened to his leg, and
then put him to driving a yoke of oxen, and kept
him at hard labor, until the iron around his leg was
so worn into the flesh, that it was thought mortifica-
tion would ensue. In addition to this, John told me
that his master whipped him regularly three times a

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 29

week for the first two months: — and all this to
'' tame him.'''' A more noble looking man than he,
was not to be found in all St. Louis, before he fell
into the hands of More ; and a more degraded and
spirit-crushed looking being was never seen on a
southern plantation, after he had been subjected to
this ''taming^'' process for three mcwiths. The
last time that I saw him, he had nearly lost the en-
tire use of his limbs.

While living with Mr. Lovejoy, I was often sent
on errands to the office of the " Missouri Republi-
can," published by Mr. Edward Charles. Once,
while returning to the office with type, I was
attacked by several large boys, sons of slave-holders,
who pelted me with snow-balls. Having the heavy
form of type in my hands, I could not make my es-
cape by running; so I laid down the type and gave
them battle. They gathered around me, pelting me
with stones and sticks, until they overpowered me,
and would have captured me, if I had not resorted
to my heels. Upon my retreat, they took possession
of the type ; and what to do to regain it I could not
devise. Knowing Mr. Lovejoy to be a very humane
man, I went to the office, and laid the case before

30 NARRATIVE OF THE

li'im. He told me to remain in the office. He took
one of the apprentices with him, and went after the
type, and soon returned with it ; but on his return
informed me that Samuel McKinney had told him
that he would whip me, because I had hurt his boy.
Soon after, McKinney was seen making his way to
the office by one of the printers, who informed me
of the fact, and I made my escape through the back
door.

McKinney not being able to find me on his
arrival, left the office in a great rage, swearing that
he would whip me to death. A few days after, as
I was walking along Main Street, he seized me by
the collar, and struck me over the head five or six
times with a large cane, which caused the blood to
gush from my nose and ears in such a manner that
my clothes were completely saturated with blood.
After beating me to his satisfaction, he let me go,
and I returned to the office so weak from the loss
of blood, that Mr. Lovejoy sent me home to my
master. It was five weeks before I was able to
walk again. During this time, it was necessary to
have some one to supply my place at the office,
and I lost the situation.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 31

After my recovery, I was hired to Capt. Otis
Reynolds, as a waiter on board the steamboat En-
terprize, owned by Messrs. John and Edward
Walsh, commission merchants at St. Louis. This
boat was then running on the upper Mississippi.
My employment on board was to wait on gentle-
men, and the captain being a good man. the situa-
tion was a pleasant one to me; — but in passing
from place to place, and seeing new faces every
day, and knowing that they could go where they
pleased, I soon became unhappy, and several times
thought of leaving the boat at some landing place,
and trying to make my escape to Canada, which I
had heard much about as a place where the slave
might live, be free, and be protected.

But whenever such thoughts would come into
my mind, my resolution would soon be shaken by
the remembrance that my dear mother was a slave
in St. Louis, and I could not bear the idea of
leaving her in that condition. She had often taken
me upon her knee, and told me how she had car-
ried me upon her back to the field when I was an
infant — how often she had been whipped for
leaving her work to nurse me — and how happy I

32 NARRATIVE OF THE

would appear when she would take me into her
arms. When these thoughts came over me, I
would resolve never to leave the land of slavery
without my mother. I thought that to leave her in
slavery, after she had undergone and suffered so
much for me, would be proving recreant to the
duty which 1 owed to her. Besides this, I had
three brothers and a sister there, — two of my
brothers having died.

My mother, my brothers Joseph and Millford,
and my sister Elizabeth, belonged to Mr. Isaac
Mansfield, formerly from one of the Free States,
(Massachusetts, I believe.) He was a tinner by
trade, and carried on a large manufacturing estab-
lishment. Of all my relatives, mother was first,
and sister next. One evening, while visiting them, I
made some allusion to a proposed journey to Can-
ada, and sister took her seat by my side, and taking
my hand in hers, said, with tears in her eyes, —

'' Brother, you are not going to leave mother and
your dear sister here without a friend, are you ? "

I looked into her face, as the tears coursed
swiftly down her cheeks, and bursting into tears
myself, said —

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 33

" No, I will never desert you and mother."
She clasped my hand in hers, and said —
" Brother, you have often declared that you
would not end your days in slavery. I see no pos-
sible way in which you can escape with us ; and
now, brother, you are on a steamboat where there
is some chance for you to escape to a land of
liberty. I beseech you not to let us hinder you.
If we cannot get our liberty, we do not wish to be
the means of keeping you from a land of freedom."
I could restrain my feelings no longer, and an
outburst of my own feelings, caused her to cease
speaking upon that subject. In opposition to their
wishes, I pledged myself not to leave them in the
hand of the oppressor. I took leave of them, and
returned to the boat, and laid down in my bunk ;
but '' sleep departed from my eyes, and slumber
from my eyelids."

A few weeks after, on our downward passage,
the boat took on board, at Hannibal, a drove of
slaves, bound for the New Orleans market. They
numbered from fifty to sixty, consisting of men and
women from eighteen to forty years of age. A
drove of slaves on a southern steamboat, bound for
3

34 NARRATIVE OF THE

the cotton or sugar regions, is an occurrence so
common, that no one, not even the passengers,
appear to notice it, though they clank their chains
at every step. There was, however, one in this
gang that attracted the attention of the passen-
gers and crew. It was a beautiful girl, apparently
about twenty years of age, perfectly white, with
straight light hair and blue eyes. But it was not
the whiteness of her skin that created such a sensa-
tion among those who gazed upon her — it was
her almost unparalleled beauty. She had been on
the boat but a short time, before the attention of all
the passengers, including the ladies, had been called
to her, and the common topic of conversation was
about the beautiful slave-girl. She was not in
chains. The man who claimed this article of human
merchandize was a Mr. Walker, — a well known
slave-trader, residing in St. Louis. There was a
general anxiety among the passengers and crew to
learn the history of the girl. Her master kept
close by her side, and it would have been consider-
ed impudent for any of the passengers to have
spoken to her, and the crew were not allowed to
have any conversation with them. When we

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 35

reached St. Louis, the slaves were removed to a
boat bound for New Orleans, and the history of the
beautiful slave-girl remained a mystery.

I remained on the boat during the season, and it
was not an unfrequent occurrence to have on board
gangs of slaves on their way to the cotton, sugar
and rice plantations of the South.

Toward the latter part of the summer. Captain
Reynolds left the boat, and I was sent home. I
was then placed on the farm under Mr. Haskell,
the overseer. As I had been some time out of the
field, and not accustomed to work in the burning
sun, it was very hard ; but I was compelled to kee
up with the best of tlic hands.

I found a great difference between the work in a
steamboat cabin and that in a corn-field.

My master, who was then living in the city, soon
after removed to the farm, when I was taken out
of the field to work in tiie house as a waiter.
Though his wife was very peevish, and hard to
please, I much preferred to be under her control
than the overseer's. They brought with them Mr.
Sloane, a Presbyterian minister ; Miss Martha
Tulley, a neice of theirs from Kentucky; and

6b NARRATIVE OF THE

their nephew WilHam. The latter had been in the
family a number of years, but the others were all
new-comers.

Mr. Sloane was a young minister, who had been
at the South but a short time, and it seemed as if
his whole aim was to please the slaveholders,
especially my master and mistress. He was intend-
ing to make a visit during the winter, and he not
only tried to please them, but I think he succeeded
admirably. When they wanted singing, he sung;
when they wanted praying, he prayed ; when they
wanted a story told, he told a story. Instead of his
teaching my master theology, my master taught
theology to him. While I was with Captain Rey-
nolds, my master "got religion," and new laws
were made on the plantation. Formerly, we had
the privilege of hunting, fishing, making splint
brooms, baskets, &c. on Sunday ; but this was all
stopped. Every Sunday, we were all compelled to
attend meeting. Master was so religious, that he
induced some others to join him in hiring a
preacher to preach to the slaves.

LIFE OF WILLIAM VV. BROWN. 37

CHAPTER V.

My master had family worship, night and morn-
ing. At night, the slaves were called in to attend j
but in the mornings, they had to be at their work,
and master did all the praying. My master and
mistress were great lovers of mint julep, and every
morning, a pitcher-full was made, of which they all
partook freely, not excepting little master William.
After drinking freely all round, they would have
family worship, and then breakfast. I cannot say
but I loved the julep as well as any of them, and
during prayer was always careful to seat myself
close to the table where it stood, so as to help my-
self when they were all busily engaged in their
devotions. By the time prayer was over, I was
about as happy as any of them. A sad accident
happened one morning. In helping myself, and at
the same time keeping an eye on my old mistress, I
accidentally let the pitcher fall upon the floor,

38 NARRATIVE OF THE

breaking it in pieces, and spilling the contents.
This was a bad affair for me ; for as soon as prayer
was over, I was taken and severely chastised.

My master's family consisted of himself, his wife,
and their nephew, William Moore. He was taken
into the family, when only a few weeks of age.
His name being that of my own, mine was changed,
for the purpose of giving precedence to his, though
I was his senior by ten or twelve years. The plan-
tation being four miles from the city, I had to drive
the family to church. I always dreaded the ap-
proach of the Sabbath ; for, during service, I was
obliged to stand by the horses in the hot broiling
sun, or in the rain, just as it happened.

One Sabbath, as we were driving past the house
of D. D. Page, a gentleman who owned a large
baking establishment, as I was sitting upon the box
of the carriage, which was very much elevated,
I saw Mr. Page pursuing a slave around the yard,
with a long whip, cutting him at every jump. The
man soon escaped from the yard, and was followed
by Mr. Page. They came running past us, and
the slave perceiving that he would be overtaken,
stopped suddenly, and Page stumbled over him,

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 39

and falling on the stone pavennent, fractured one of
his legs, which crippled him for life. The same
gentleman, but a short time previous, tied up a
woman of his, by the name of Delphia, and whipped
her nearly to death ; yet he was a deacon in the
Baptist church, in good and regular standing.
Poor Delphia ! I was well acquainted with her, and
called to see her while upon her sick bed ; and I
shall never forget her appearance. She was a
member of the same church with her master.

Soon after this, I was hired out to Mr. Walker;
the same man whom I have mentioned as having
carried a gang of slaves down the river, on the
steamboat Enterprize. Seeing me in the capacity
of steward on the boat, and thinking that I would
make a good hand to take care of slaves, he deter-
mined to have me for that purpose ; and finding
that my master would not sell me, he hired me for
the term of one year.

When I learned the fact of my having been
hired to a negro speculator, or a "soul-driver" as
they are generally called among slaves, no one can
tell my emotions. Mr. Walker had offered a high
price for me, as I afterwards learned, but I suppose

40 NARRATIVE OF THE

my master was restrained from selling me by the
fact that I was a near relative of his. On entering
the service of Mr. Walker, I found that my oppor-
tunity of getting to a land of liberty was gone, at
least for the time being. He had a gang of slaves
in readiness to start for New Orleans, and in a few
days we were on our journey. I am at a loss for
language to express my feelings on that occasion.
Although my master had told me that he had not
sold me, and Mr. Walker had told me that he had
not purchased me, I did not believe them ; and not
until I had been to New Orleans, and was on my
return, did I believe that I was not sold.

There was on the boat a large room on the lower
deck, in which the slaves were kept, men and
women, promiscuously — all chained two and two,
and a strict watch kept that they did not get loose ;
for cases have occurred in which slaves have got
off their chains, and made their escape at landing-
places, while the boats were taking in wood ; — and
with all our care, we lost one woman who had been
taken from her husband and children, and having
no desire to live without them, in the agony of her
soul jumped overboard, and drowned herself. She
was not chained.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 41

It was almost impossible to keep that part of the
boat clean.

On landing at Natchez, the slaves were all carried
to the slave-pen, and there kept one week, during
which time, several of them were sold. Mr. Walker
fed his slaves well. We took on board, at St.
Louis, several hundred pounds of bacon (smoked
meat) and corn-meal, and his slaves were better fed
than slaves generally were in Natchez, so far as my
observation extended.

At tlie end of a week, we left for New Orleans,
the place of our final destination, which we reached
in two days. Here the slaves were placed in a
negro-pen, where those who wished to purchase
could call and examine them. The negro-pen is a
small yard, surrounded by buildings, from fifteen
to twenty feet wide, with the exception of a large
gate with iron bars. The slaves are kept in the
buildings during the night, and turned out into the
yard during the day. After the best of the stock
was sold at private sale at the pen, the balance
were taken to the Exchange Coffee House Auction
Rooms, kept by Isaac L. McCoy, and sold at
public auction. After the sale of this lot of slaves,
we left New Orleans for St; Louis.

42 NARRATIVE OF THE

CHAPTER VI.

On our arrival at St. Louis, I went to Dr.
Young, and told him that I did not wish to live
with Mr. Walker any longer. I was heart-sick at
seeing my fellow-creatures bought and sold. But
the Dr. had hired me for the year, and stay I must.
Mr Walker again commenced purchasing another
gang of slaves. He bought a man of Colonel John
O'Fallon, who resided in the suburbs of the city.
This man had a wife and three children. As soon
as the purchase was made, he was put in jail for
safe keeping, until we should be ready to start for
New Orleans. His wife visited him while there,
several times, and several times when she went for
that purpose was refused admittance.

In the course of eight or nine weeks Mr. Walker
had his cargo of human flesh made up. There
was in this lot a number of old men and women,
some of them with gray locks. We left St. Louis

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 43

in the steamboat Carlton, Captain Swan, bound for
New Orleans. On our way down, and before we
reached Rodney, the place where we made our first
stop, I had to prepare the old slaves for market. I
was ordered to have the old men's whiskers shaved
off, and the grey hairs plucked out, where they
were not too numerous, in which case he had a
preparation of blacking to color it, and with a
blacking-brush we would put it on. This was new
business to me, and was performed in a room
where the passengers could not see us. These
slaves were also taught how old they were by Mr.
Walker, and after going through the blacking
process, they looked ten or fifteen years younger ;
and I am sure that some of those who purchased
slaves of Mr. Walker, were dreadfully cheated,
especially in the ages of the slaves which they
bought.

We landed at Rodney, and the slaves were
driven to the pen in the back part of the village.
Several were sold at this place, during our stay of
four or five days, when we proceeded to Natchez.
There we landed at night, and the gang were put
in the VAarehouse until morning, when they were

44 NARRATIVE OF THE

driven to the pen. As soon as the slaves are put
in these pens, swarms of planters may be seen in
and about them. They knew when Walker was
expected, as he always had the time advertised
beforehand when he would be in Rodney, Natchez,
and New Orleans. These were the principal
places where he offered his slaves for sale. .

When at Natchez the second time, I saw a slave
very cruelly whipped. He belonged to a Mr.
Broadwell, a merchant who kept a store on the
wharf. The slave's name was Lewis. I had
known him several years, as he w^as formerly from
St. Louis. We were expecting a steamboat down
the river, in which we were to take passage for
New Orleans. Mr. Walker sent me to the landing
to watch for the boat, ordering me to inform him
on its arrival. While there, I went into the store
to see Lewis. I saw a slave in the store, and asked
him where Lewis was. Said he, ''They have got
Lewis hanging between the heavens and the earth."
I asked him what he meant by that. He told me
to go into the warehouse and see. I w^ent in, and
found Lewds there. He was tied up to a beam,
with his toes just touching the floor. As there was

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 45

no one in the warehouse but himself, I inquired
the reason of his being in that situation. He said
Mr. Broadwell had sold his wife to a planter six
miles from the city, and that he had been to visit
her, — that he went in the night, expecting to
return before daylight, and went without his
master's permission. The patrol had taken him up
before he reached his wife. He was put in jail,
and his master had to pay for his catching and
keeping, and that was what he was tied up for.

Just as he finished his story, Mr. Broadwell came
in, and inquired what I was doing there. I knew
not what to say, and while I was thinking what
reply to make, he struck me over the head with
the cowhide, the end of which struck me over my
right eye, sinking deep into the flesh, leaving a scar
which I carry to this day. Before 1 visited Lewis,
he had received fifty lashes. Mr. Broadwell gave
him fifty lashes more after I came out, as I was
afterwards informed by Lewis himself.

The next day we proceeded to New Orleans, and
put the gang in the same negro-pen which we
occupied before. In a short time, the planters
came flocking to the pen to purchase slaves. Be-

46 NARRATIVE OF THE

fore the slaves were exhibited for sale, they were
dressed and driven out into the yard. Some were
set to dancing, some to jumping, some to singing,
and some to playing cards. This was done to
make them appear cheerful and happy. My
business was to see that they were placed in those
situations before the arrival of the purchasers, and I
have often set them to dancing when their cheeks
were wet with tears. As slaves were in good
demand at that time, they were all soon disposed
of, and we again set out for St. Louis.

On our arrival, Mr. Walker purchased a farm
five or six miles from the city. He had no family,
but made a housekeeper of one of his female
slaves. Poor Cynthia! I knew her well. She was
a quadroon, and one of the most beautiful women
I ever saw. She was a native of St. Louis, and
bore an irreproachable character for virtue and
propriety of conduct. Mr. Walker bought her for
the New Orleans market, and took her down with
him on one of the trips that I made with him.
Never shall I forget the circumstances of that voy-
age ! On the first night that we were on board the
steamboat, he directed me to put her into a state-

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 47

room he had provided for her, apart from the other
slaves. I had seen too much of the workings of
slavery, not to know what this meant. I according-
ly watched him into the state-room, and listened to
hear what passed between them. I heard him
make his base offers, and her reject them. He told
her that if she would accept his vile proposals, he
would take her back with him to St. Louis, and
establish her as his housekeeper at his farm. But
if she persisted in rejecting them, he would sell her
as a field hand on the worst plantation on the river.
Neither threats nor bribes prevailed, however, and
he retired, disappointed of his prey.

The next morning, poor Cynlhia told me what
had past, and bewailed her sad fate with floods of
tears. I comforted and encouraged her all I could ;
but I foresaw but too well what the result must be.
Without entering into any farther particulars, sufBce
it to say that Walker performed his part of the
contract, at that time, lie took her back to St.
Louis, established her as his mistress and house-
keeper at his farm, and before I left, he had two
children by her. But, mark the end ! Since I
have been at the North, I have been credibly

48 NARRATIVE OF THE

informed that Walker has been married, and, as a
previous measure, sold poor Cynthia and her four
children (she having had two more since I came
away) into hopeless bondage !

He soon commenced purchasing to make up the
third gang. We took steamboat, and went to
Jefferson City, a town on the Missouri river. Here
we landed, and took stage for the interior of the
State. He bought a number of slaves as he passed
the different farms and villages. After getting
twenty-two or twenty-three men and women, we
arrived at St. Charles, a village on the banks of the
Missouri. Here he purchased a woman who had a
child in her arms, appearing to be four or five
weeks old.

We had been travelling by land for some days,
and were in hopes to have found a boat at this
place for St. Louis, but were disappointed. As no
boat was expected for some days, we started for
St. Louis by land. Mr. Walker had purchased two
horses. He rode one, and I the other. The slaves
were chained together, and we took up our line Oi
march, Mr. Walker taking the lead, and I bringing
up the rear. Though the distance was not more

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 49

than twenty miles, we did not reach it the first day.
The road was worse than any that I have ever
travelled.

Soon after we left St. Charles, the young child
grew very cross, and kept up a noise during the
greater part of the day. Mr. Walker complained
of its crying several times, and told the mother to

stop the child's d d noise, or he would. The

woman tried to keep the child from crying, but
could not. We put up at night with an acquaint-
ance of Mr. Walker, and in the morning, just as
we were about to start, the child again commenced
crying. Walker stepped up to her, and told her to
give the child to him. The mother tremblingly
obeyed. He took the child by one arm, as you
would a cat by the leg, walked into the house,
and said to the lady,

" Madam, I will make you a present of this little
nigger ; it keeps such a noise that I can't bear it."

'' Thank you, sir," said the lady.

The mother, as soon as she saw that her child

was to be left, ran up to Mr. Walker, and falling

upon her knees begged him to let her have her

child ; she clung around his legs, and cried, " Oh,

4

NARRATIVE OF THE

50

my child! my child! master, do let me have my
child ' oh, do, do, do. I will stop its crying, if you
will only let me have it again." When I saw this
woman crying for her child so piteously, a shud-
der,^a feehng akin to horror, shot through my
frame. I have often since in imagination heard
her crying for her child : —

n O, master, let me stay to catch

My baby's sobbing breath,
His little glassy eye to watch,
And smooth his limbs in death,

And cover him with grass and leaf,

Beneath the large oak tree :
It is not sullenness, but grief,—

O, master, pity me !

The morn was chill -I spoke no word.

But feared my babe migbt die.
And heard all day, or thought I heard.

My little baby cry.

At noon, oh, how I ran and took

My baby to my breast !
I lingered — and the long lash broke

My sleeping infant's rest.

I worked till night -till darkest night,

In torture and disgrace ;
Went home and watched till morning light,

To see my baby's face.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 51

Then give me but one little hour —

O ! do not lash me so !
One little hour — one little hour —

And gratefully I'll go."

Mr. Walker commanded her to return into the
ranks with the other slaves. Women who had
children were not chained, but those that had none
were. As soon as her child was disposed of, she
was chained in the gang.

The following song I have often heard the slaves
sing, when about to be carried to the far south. It
is said to have been composed by a slave.

" See these poor souls from Africa

Transported to America;

We are stolen, and sold to Georgia,

Will you go along with me ?

We are stolen, and sold to Georgia,

Come sound the jubilee !

See wives and husbands sold apart.

Their children's screams will break my heart

There 's a better day a coming,

Will you go along with me?

There 's a better day a coming.

Go sound the jubilee !

O, gracious Lord ! when shall it be,
That we poor souls shall all be free ;

52 NARRATIVE OF THE

Lord, break them slavery powers —
Will you go along with me ?
Lord break them slavery powers,
Go sound the jubilee !

Dear Lord, dear Lord, when slavery '11 cease,
Then we poor souls will have our peace ; —
There 's a better day a coming,
Will you go along with me ?
There 's a better day a coming,
Go sound the jubilee ! "

We finally arrived at Mr. Walker's farm. He
had a house built during our absence to put slaves
in. It was a kind of domestic jail. The slaves
were put in the jail at night, and worked on the
farm during the day. (^They were kept here until
the gang was completed, when we again started for
New Orleans, on board the steamboat North Amer-
ica, Capt. Alexander Scott. We had a large num-
ber of slaves in this gang. One, by the name of
Joe, Mr. Walker was training up to take my place,
as my time was nearly out, and glad was I. We
made our first stop at Vicksburg, where we
remained one week and sold several slaves, j

Mr. Walker, though not a good master, had not
flogged a slave since I had been with him, though

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 53

he had threatened me. The slaves were kept in
the pen, and he always put up at the best hotel,
and kept his wines in his room, for the accommoda-
tion of those who called to negotiate with him for
the purchase of slaves. One day while we were at
Vicksburg, several gentlemen came to see him for
this purpose, and as usual the wine was called for.
I took the tray and started around with it, and
having accidentally filled some of the glasses too
full, the gentlemen spilled the wine on their clothes
as they went to drink. Mr. Walker apologized to
them for my carelessness, but looked at me as
though he would see me again on this subject.

After the gentlemen had left the room, he asked
me what I meant by my carelessness, and said that
he would attend to me. The next morning, he
gave me a note to carry to the jailer, and a dollar in
money to give to him. I suspected that all was not
right, so I went down near the landing where I met
with a sailor, and walking up to him, asked him if
he would be so kind as to read the note for me.
He read it over, and then looked at me. I asked
him to tell me what was in it. Said he,

" They are going to give you hell."

"Why?" said I.

54 NARRATIVE OF THE

He said, " This is a note to have you whipped,
and says that you have a dollar to pay for it."

He handed me back the note, and off I started.
I knew not what to do, but was determined not to
be whipped. I went up to the jail — took a look
at it, and walked off again. As Mr. Walker was
acquainted with the jailer, I feared that I should be
found out if I did not go, and be treated in conse-
quence of it still worse.

While I was meditating on the subject, I saw a
colored man about my size walk up, and the
thought struck me in a moment to send him with
my note. I walked up to him, and asked him who
he belonged to. He said he was a free man, and
had been in the city but a short time. I told him
I had a note to go into the jail, and get a trunk to
carry to one of the steamboats ; but was so busily
engaged that I could not do it, although I had a
dollar to pay for it. He asked me if I would not
give him the job. I handed him the note and the
dollar, and off he started for the jail.

I watched to see that he went in, and as soon as
I saw the door close behind him, I walked around
the corner, and took my station, intending to see

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 55

how my friend looked when he came out. I had
been there but a short time, when a colored man
came around the corner, and said to another colored
man with whom he was acquainted —

" They are giving a nigger scissors in the jail."

" What for ? " said the other. The man con-
tinued,

" A nigger came into the jail, and asked for the
jailer. The jailer came out, and he handed him a
note, and said he wanted to get a trunk. The
jailer told him to go with him, and he would give
him the trunk. So he took him into the room, and
told the nigger to give up the dollar. He said a
man had given him the dollar to pay for getting
the trunk. But that lie would not answer. So
they made him strip himself, and then they tied him
down, and are now whipping him."

I stood by all the while listening to their talk,
and soon found out that the person alluded to was
my customer. I went into the street opposite the
jail, and concealed myself in such a manner that I
could not be seen by any one coming out. I had
been there but a short time, when the young man
made his appearance, and looked around for me.

56 NARRATIVE OF THE

I, unobserved, came forth from my hiding-place,
behind a pile of brick, and he pretty soon saw me
and came up to me complaining bitterly, saying
that I had played a trick upon him. I denied any
knowledge of what the note contained, and asked
him what they had done to him. He told me in
substance what I heard the man tell who had come
out of the jail.

"Yes," said he, " they whipped me and took my
dollar, and gave me this note."

He showed me the note which the jailer had
given him, telling him to give it to his master. I
told him I would give him fifty cents for it, — that
being all the money I had. He gave it to me, and
took his money. He had received twenty lashes
on his bare back, with the negro-whip.

I took the note and started for the hotel where I
had left Mr. Walker. Upon reaching the hotel, I
handed it to a stranger whom I had not seen l^efore,
and requested him to read it to me. As near as I
cap recollect, it was as follows : —

"Dear Sir: — By your direction, I have given
your boy twenty lashes. He is a very saucy boy.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 57

and tried to make me believe that he did not
belong to you, and I put it on to him well for lying
to me.

I remain,

Your obedient servant."

It is true that in most of the slave-holding cities,
when a gentleman wishes his servants whipped, he
can send him to the jail and have it done. Before
I went in where Mr. Walker was, I wet my cheeks
a little, as though I had been crying. He looked
at me, and inquired what was the matter. I told
him that I had never had such^a whipping in my
life, and handed him the note. He looked at it
and laughed; — ''and so you told him that you did
not belong to me." " Yes, sir," said I. " I did
not know that there was any harm in that." He
told me I must behave myself, if I did not want to
be whipped again.

This incident shows how it is that slavery makes
its victims lying and mean ; for which vices it
afterwards reproaches them, and uses them as
arguments to prove that they deserve no better
fate. I have often, since my escape, deeply re-

58 NARRATIVE OF THE

grelted the deception I practised upon this poor
fellow ; and I heartily desire that it may be, at
some time or otlier, in my power to make him
amends for his vicarious sufferings in my behalf.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 59

CHAPTER VII.

In a few days we reached New Orleans, and
arriving there in the night, remained on board until
morning. While at New Orleans this time, I saw
a slave killed ; an account of which has been pub-
lished by Theodore D. Weld, in his book entitled,
" Slavery as it is." The circumstances were as
follows. In the evening, between seven and eight
o'clock, a slave came running down the levee, fol-
lowed by several men and boys. The whites were
crying out, ''Stop that nigger; stop that nigger;"
while the poor panting slave, in almost breathless
accents, was repeating, " I did not steal the meat —
I did not steal the meat." The poor man at last
took refuge in the river. The whites who were in
pursuit of him, run on board of one of the boats to
see if they could discover him. They finally
espied him under the bow of the steamboat Tren-
ton. They got a pike-pole, and tried to drive him

60 NARRATIVE OF THE

from his hiding place. When they would strike at
him, he would dive under the water. The water
was so cold, that it soon became evident that he
must come out or be drowned.

While they were trying to drive him from under
the bow of the boat or drown him, he would in
broken and imploring accents say, '' I did not steal
the meat ; I did not steal the meat. My master
lives up the river. I want to see my master. I
did not steal the meat. Do let me go home to
master." After punching him, and striking him
over the head for some time, he at last sunk in the
water, to rise no more alive.

On the end of the pike-pole with which they
were striking him was a hook which caught in his
clothing, and they hauled him up on the bow of the
boat. Some said he was dead, others said he
was "jylaying possum,^^ while others kicked him
to make him get up, but it was of no use — he was
dead.

As soon as they became satisfied of this, they
commenced leaving, one after another. One of the
hands on the boat informed the captain that they
had killed the man, and that the dead body was

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 61

lying on the deck. The captain came on deck, and
said to those who were remaining, " You have
killed this nigger; now take him oft^ of my boat."
The captain's name was Hart. The dead body was
dragged on shore and left there. I went on board
of the boat wliere our gang of slaves were, and
during the whole night my mind was occupied with
what I had seen. Early in the morning, I went on
shore to see if the dead body remained there. I
found it in the same position that it was left the
night before. I watched to see what they would
do with it. It was left tliere until between eight
and nine o'clock, when a cart, which takes up the
trash out of the streets, came along, and the body
was tlirown in, and in a few minutes more was
covered over with dirt which they were removing
from the streets. During the whole time, I did not
see more than six or seven persons around it, who,
from their manner, evidently regarded it as no
uncommon occurrence.

During our stay in the city, I met with a young
white man with whom I was well acquainted in St.
Louis. He had been sold into slavery, under the
following circumstances. His father was a drunk-

62 NARRATIVE OF THE

ard, and very poor, with a family of five or six
children. The father died, and left the mother to
take care of and provide for the children as best
she might. The eldest was a boy, named Burrill,
about thirteen years of age, who did chores in a
store kept by Mr. Riley, to assist his mother in pro-
curing a living for the family. After working with
him two years, Mr. Riley took him to New Orleans
to wait on him while in that city on a visit, and
when he returned to St. Louis, he told the mother
of the boy that he had died witli the yellow fever.
Nothing more was heard from him, no one suppos-
ing him to be alive. I was much astonished when
Burrill told me his story. Though I sympathized
with him, I could not assist him. We were both
slaves. He was poor, uneducated, and without
friends ; and if living, is, I presume, still held as a
slave.

After selling out this cargo of human flesh, we
returned to St. Louis, and my time was up with
Mr. Walker. I had served him one year, and it
was the longest year I ever lived.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 63

CHAPTER VIII.

I WAS sent home, and was glad enough to leave
the service of one who was tearing the husband
from the wife, the child from the mother, and the
sister from the brother, — but a trial more severe
and heart-rending than any which I had yet met
with awaited me. My dear sister had been sold to
a man who was going to Natchez, and was lying in
jail awaiting the hour of his departure. She had
expressed her determination to die, rather than go
to the far south, and she was put in jail for safe
keeping. I went to the jail the same day that I
arrived, but as the jailor was not in, I could not see
her.

I went home to my master, in the country, and
the first day after my return, he came where I was
at work, and spoke to me very politely. I knew
from his appearance that something was the matter.
After talking about my several journeys to New

64 ' NARRATIVE OP THE

Orleans with Mr. Walker, he told me that he was
hard yjressed for money, and as he had sold my
mother and all her children except me, he thought
it would be better to sell me than any other one,
and that as I had been used to living in the city, he
thought it probable that I would prefer it to a
country life. I raised up my head, and looked him
full in the face. When my eyes caught his, he
immediately looked to the ground. After a short
pause, I said,

" Master, mother has often told me that you are
a near relative of mine, and I have often heard you
admit the fact; and after you have hired me out,
and received, as I once heard you say, nine hundred
dollars for my services, — after receiving this large
sum, will you sell me to be carried to New Orleans
or some other place ? "

'' No," said he, " I do not intend to sell you to a
negro trader. If I had wished to have done that, I
might have sold you to Mr. Walker for a large sum,
but I would not sell you to a negro trader. You
may go to the city, and find you a good master."

" But," said I, '^ I cannot find a good master in
the whole city of St. Louis."

"Why? "said he.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 65

"Because there are no good masters in the
State."

" Do you not call me a good master ? "

" If you were, you would not sell me."

" Now I will give you one week to find a master
in, and surely you can do it in that time."

The price set by my evangelical master upon
my soul and body was the trifling sum of five
hundred dollars. I tried to enter into some
arrangement by which I might purchase my free-
dom ; but he would enter into no such arrangement.

I set out for the city with the understanding
that I was to return in a week with some one to
become my new master. Soon after reaching the
city, I went to the jail, to learn if I could once
more see my sister ; but could not gain admission.
I then went to mother, and learned from her that
the owner of my sister intended to start for Natchez
in a few days.

I went to the jail again the next day, and Mr.
Simonds, the keeper, allowed me to see my sister
for the last time. I cannot give a just description of
the scene at that parting interview. Never, never
can be erased from my heart the occurrences of
5

66 NARRATIVE OF THE

that day ! When I entered the room where she
was, she was seated in one corner, alone. There
were four other women in the same room, belonging
to the same man. He had purchased them, he said,
for his own use. She was seated with her face
towards the door where I entered, yet she did not
look up until I walked up to her. As soon as she
observed me, she sprung up, threw her arms around
my neck, leaned her head upon my breast, and,
without uttering a word, burst into tears. As soon
as she recovered herself sufficiently to speak, she
advised me to take mother, and try to get out of
slavery. She said there was no hope for herself, —
that she must live and die a slave. After giving
her some advice, and taking from my finger a ring
and placing it upon hers, I bade her farewell for-
ever, and returned to my mother, and then and
there made up my mind to leave for Canada as
soon as possible.

I had been in the city nearly two days, and as I
was to be absent only a week, I thought best to get
on my journey as soon as possible. In conversing
with mother, I found her unwilling to make the
attempt to reach a land of liberty, but she counselled

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 67

me to get my liberty if I could. She said, as all
her children were in slavery, she did not wish to
leave them. I could not bear the idea of leaving
her among those pirates, when there was a prospect
of being able to get away from them. After much
persuasion, I succeeded in inducing her to make
the attempt to get away.

The time fixed for our departure was the next
night. I had with me a little money that I had
received, from time to time, from gentlemen for
whom I had done errands. I took my scanty
means and purchased some dried beef, crackers and
cheese, which I carried to mother, who had provided
herself with a bag to carry it in. I occasionally
thought of my old master, and of my mission to the
city to find a new one. I waited with the most
intense anxiety for the appointed time to leave the
land of slavery, in search of a land of liberty.

The time at length arrived, and we left the city
just as the clock struck nine. We proceeded to
the upper part of the city, where I had been two or
three times during the day, and selected a skiff to
carry us across the river. The boat was not mine,
nor did I know to whom it did belong; neither

68 NARRATIVE OF THE

did I care. The boat was fastened with a small
pole, which, with the aid of a rail, I soon loosened
from its moorings. After hunting round and find-
ing a board to use as an oar, I turned to the city,
and bidding it a long farewell, { ushed off my boat.
The current running very swift, we had not reached
the middle of the stream before we were directly
opposite the city.

We were soon upon the Illinois shore, and, leap-
ing from the boat, turned it adrift, and the last
I saw of it, it was going down the river at good
speed. We took the main road to Alton, and passed
through just at daylight, when we made for the
woods, where we remained during the day. Our
reason for going into the woods was, that we ex-
pected that Mr. Mansfield (the man who owned
my mother) would start in pursuit of her as soon as
he discovered that she was missing. He also knew
that I had been in the city looking for a new mas-
ter, and we thought probably he would go out to
my master's to see if he could find my mother, and
in so doing, Dr. Young might be led to suspect that
I had gone to Canada to find a purchaser.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 69

We remained in the woods during the day, and
as soon as darkness overshadowed the earth, we
started again on our gloomy way, having no guide
but the NORTH STAR, We continued to travel by
night, and secrete ourselves in woods by day ; and
every night, before emerging from our hiding-place,
we would anxiously look for our friend and leader,

the NORTH STAR.

70 NARRATIVE OF THE

CHAPTER IX.

As we travelled towards a land of liberty, my
heart would at times leap for joy. At other times,
being, as I was, almost constantly on my feet, I felt
as though I could travel no further. But when I
thought of slavery with its Democratic whips — its
Republican chains — its evangelical blood-hounds,
and its religious slave-holders — when I thought of
all this paraphernalia of American Democracy and
Religion behind me, and the prospect of libert}'
before me, I was encouraged to press forward, my
heart was strengthened, and I forgot that I was
tired or hungry.

On the eighth day of our journey, we had a very
heavy rain, and in a few hours after it commenced,
we had not a dry thread upon our bodies. This
made our journey still more unpleasant. On the
tenth day, we found ourselves entirely destitute of
provisions, and how to obtain any we could not

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 71

tell. We finally resolved to stop at some farm-
house, and try to get something to eat. We had
no sooner determined to do this, than we went to a
house, and asked them for some food. We were
treated with great kindness, and they not only gave
us something to eat, but gave us provisions to carry
with us. They advised us to travel by day, and
lye by at night. Finding ourselves about one hun-
dred and fifty miles from St. Louis, we concluded
that it would be safe to travel by daylight, and did
not leave the house until the next morning. We
travelled on that day through a thickly settled
country, and through one small village. Though
we were fleeing from a land of oppression, our
hearts were still there. My dear sister and two
beloved brothers were behind us, and the idea of
giving them up, and leaving them forever, made us
feel sad. But with all this depression of heart, the
thought that I should one day be free, and call my
body my own, buoyed me up, and made my heart
leap for joy. I had just been telling mother how I
should try to get employment as soon as we reached
Canada, and how I intended to purchase us a little
farm, and how I would earn money enough to buy

72 NARRATIVE OF THE

sister and brothers, and how happy we would be in
our own Free Home, — when three men came up
on horseback, and ordered us to stop.

I turned to the one who appeared to be the
principal man, and asked him what he wanted.
He said he had a warrant to take us up. The
three immediately dismounted, and one took from
his pocket a handbill, advertising us as runaways,
and offering a reward of two hundred dollars for
our apprehension, and delivery in the city of St.
Louis. The advertisement had been put out by
Isaac Mansfield and John Young.

While they were reading the advertisement,
mother looked me in the face, and burst into tears.
A cold chill ran over me, and such a sensation I
never experienced before, and I hope never to
again. They took out a rope and tied me, and we
were taken back about six miles, to the house of
the individual who appeared to be the leader. We
reached there about seven o'clock in the evening,
had supper, and were separated for the night. Two
men remained in the room during the night. Be-
fore the family retired to rest, they were all called
together to attend prayers. The man who but a

LIFE OF WILLIAM VV. BROWN. 73

few hours before had bound my hands together
with a strong cord, read a chapter from the Bible,
and then offered up prayer, just as though God
sanctioned the act he had just committed upon a
poor panting, fugitive slave.

The next morning, a blacksmith came in, and
put a pair of handcuffs on me, and we started on
our journey back to the land of whips, chains and
Bibles. Mother was not tied, but was closely
watched at night. We were carried back in a
wagon, and after four days travel, we came in sight
of St. Louis. I cannot describe my feelings upon
approaching the city.

As we were crossing the ferry, Mr. Wiggins,
the owner of the ferry, came up to me, and in-
quired what I had been doing that I was in chains.
He had not heard that I had run away. In a few
minutes, we were on the Missouri side, and were
taken directly to the jail. On the way thither, I
saw several of my friends, who gave me a nod of
recognition as I passed them. After reaching the
jail, we were locked up in different apartments.

74 NARRATIVE OF THE

CHAPTER X.

I HAD been in jail but a short time when I heard
that my master was sick, and nothing brought more
joy to my heart than that intelligence. I prayed
fervently for him — not for his recovery, but for
his death. I knew he would be exasperated at
having to pay for my apprehension, and knowing
his cruelty, I feared him. While in jail, I learned
that my sister Elizabeth, who was in prison when
we left the city, had been carried off four days
before our arrival.

I had been in jail but a few hours when three
negro-traders, learning that I was secured thus for
running away, came to my prison-house and looked
at me, expecting that I would be offered for sale.
Mr. Mansfield, the man who owned mother, came
into the jail as soon as Mr. Jones, the man who
arrested us, informed him that he had brought her
back. He told her that he would not whip her.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 75

but would sell her to a negro-trader, or take her to
New Orleans himself. After being in jail about
one week, master sent a man to take me out of jail,
and send me home. I was taken out and carried
home, and the old man was well enough to sit up.
He had me brought into the room where he was,
and as I entered, he asked me where I had been ?
I told I had acted according to his orders. He
had told me to look for a master, and I had been
to look for one. He answered that he did not tell
me to go to Canada to look for a master. I told
him that as I had served him faithfully, and had
been the means of putting a number of hundreds of
dollars into his pocket, I thought I had a right to
my liberty. He said he had promised my father
that I should not be sold to supply the New Or-
leans market, or he would sell me to a negro-
trader.

I was ordered to go into the field to work, and
was closely watched by the overseer during the day,
and locked up at night. The overseer gave me a
severe whipping on the second day that I was in
the field. I had been at home but a short time,
when master was able to ride to the citv ; and on

16 NARRATIVE OF THE

his return, he informed me that he had sold me to
Samuel Willi, a merchant tailor. I knew Mr.
Willi. I had lived with him three or four months
some years before, when he hired me of my master.

Mr. Willi was not considered by his servants
as a very bad man, nor was he the best of masters.
I went to my new home, and found my new mis-
tress very glad to see me. Mr. Willi owned two
servants before he purchased me, — Robert and
Charlotte. Robert was an excellent white-washer,
and hired his time from his master, paying him
one dollar per day, besides taking care of himself.
He was known in the city by the name of Bob
Music. Charlotte was an old woman, who attended
to the cooking, washing, &c. Mr. Willi was not
a wealthy man, and did not feel able to keep many
servants around his house ; so he soon decided to
hire me out, and as I had been accustomed to
service in steamboats, he gave mc the privilege of
finding such employment.

I soon secured a situation on board the steamer
Otto, Capt. J. B. Hill, which sailed from St. Louis
to Independence, Missouri. My former master,
Dr. Young, did not let Mr. Willi know that I had

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. i i

run away, or he would not have permitted me to
go on board a steamboat. The boat was not quite
ready to commence running, and therefore I had to
remain with Mr. Willi. But during this time. I
bad to undergo a trial, for which I was entirely
unprepared. My mother, who had been in jail
since her return until the present time, was now
about being carried to New Orleans, to die on a
cotton, sugar, or rice plantation !

I had been several times to the jail, but could
obtain no interview with her. I ascertained, how-
ever, the time the boat in which she was to embark
would sail, and as I had not seen mother since her
being thrown into prison, I felt anxious for the hour
of sailing to come. At last, the day arrived when I
was to see her for the first time after our painful
separation, and, for aught that I knew, for the last
time in this world !

At about ten oclock in the morning I went on
board of the boat, and found her there in company
with fifty or sixty other slaves. She was chained
to another woman. On seeing me, she immediately
dropped her head upon her heaving bosom. She
moved not, neither did sbe weep. Her emotions

78 NARRATIVE OF THE

were too deep for tears. I approached, threw my
arms around her neck, kissed her, and fell upon
my knees, begging her forgiveness, for I thought
myself to blame for her sad condition ; for if I had
not persuaded her to accompany me, she would not
then have been in chains.

She finally raised her head, looked me in the
face, (and such a look none but an angel can give !)
and said, " My dear son, you are not to blame for
my being here. You have done nothing more
nor less than your duty. Do not, I pray you,
weep for me. I cannot last long upon a cotton
plantation. I feel that my heavenly master will
soon call me home, and then I shall be out of the
hands of the slave-holders I "

I could bear no more — my heart struggled to
free itself from the human form. In a moment she
saw Mr. Mansfield coming toward that part of the
boat, and she whispered into my ear, " My child,
we must soon part to meet no more this side of the
grave. You have ever said that you would not
die a slave ; that you would be a freeman. Now
try to get your liberty ! You will soon have no
one to look after but yourself! " and just as she

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 79

whispered the last sentence into my ear, Mansfield
came up to me, and with an oath, said, '' Leave here
this instant; you have been the means of my losing
one hundred dollars to get this wench back," —
at the same time kicking me with a heavy pair of
boots. As I left her, she gave one shriek, saying,
" God be with you ! " It was the last time that I
saw her, and the last word 1 heard her utter.

I walked on shore. The bell was tolhng. The
boat was about to start. I stood with a heavy
heart, waiting to see her leave the wharf. As I
thought of my mother, I could but feel that I had
lost *

" the glory of my life,

My blessing and my pride !
I half forgot the name of slave,
When she was by my side."

80 NARRATIVE OF THE

CHAPTER XI

The love of liberty that had been burning in my
bosom, had well nigh gone out. I felt as though I
was ready to die. The boat moved gently from
the wharf, and while she glided down the river, I
realized that my mother was indeed

" Gone, — gone, — sold and gone,
To the rice swamp dank and lone ! "

After the boat was out of sight, I returned home;
but my thoughts were so absorbed in what I had
witnessed, that I knew not what I was about half
of the time. Night came, but it brought no sleep
to my eyes.

In a few days, the boat upon which I was to
work being ready, I went on board to commence.
This employment suited me better than living in
the city, and I remained until the close of naviga-
tion ; though it proved anything but pleasant. The

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 81

captain was a drunken, profligate, hard-hearted
creature, not knowing how to treat himself, or any
other person.

The boat, on its second trip, brought down Mr.
Walker, the man of whom I have spoken in a pre-
vious chapter, as hiring my time. He had between
one and two hundred slaves, chained and manacled.
Among them was a man that formerly belonged to
my old master's brother, Aaron Young. His name
was Solomon. He was a preacher, and belonged to
the same church with his master. I was glad to
see the old man. He wept like a child when he
told me how he had been sold from his wife and
children.

The boat carried down, while I remained on
board, four or five gangs of slaves. Missouri,
though a comparatively new State, is very much
engaged in raising slaves to supply the southern
market. In a former chapter, I have mentioned
that I was once in the employ of a slave-trader, or
driver, as he is called at the south. For fear
that some may think that I have misrepresented a
slave-driver, I will here give an extract from a
6

82 NARRATIVE OF THE

paper published in a slaveholding State, Tennes-
see, called the '' Millennial Trumpeter."

" Droves of negroes, chained together in dozens
and scores, and hand-cuffed, have b^en driven
through our country in numbers far surpassing any
previous year, and these vile slave-drivers and deal-
ers are swarming like buzzards around a carrion.
Through this county, you cannot pass a few miles
in the great roads without having every feeling of
humanity insulted and lacerated by this spectacle,
nor can you go into any county or any neighbor-
hood, scarcely, without seeing or hearing of some
of these despicable creatures, called negro-drivers.

"Who is a negro-driver? One whose eyes
dwell with delight on lacerated bodies of helpless
men, women and children ; whose soul feels dia-
bolical raptures at the chains, and hand-cuffs, and
cart-whips, for inflicting tortures on weeping moth-
ers torn from helpless babes, and on husbands and
wives torn asunder forever ! "

Dark and revolting as is the picture here drawn,
it is from the pen of one living in the midst of
slavery. But though these men may cant about
negro-drivers, and tell what despicable creatures

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 83

they are, who is it, I ask, that supplies them with
the human beings that they are tearing asunder ?
I answer, as far as I have any knowledge of the
State where I came from, that those who raise
slaves for the market are to be found among all
classes, from Thomas H. Benton down to the
lowest political demagogue, who may be able to
purchase a woman for the purpose of raising stock,
and from the Doctor of Divinity down to the most
humble lay member in the church.

It was not uncommon in St. Louis to pass by an
auction-stand, and behold a woman upon the auction-
block, and hear the seller crying out, " How much
is offered for this woman ? She is a good cook,
good ivasher, a good obedient servant. She has
got religion ! " Why should this man tell the
purchasers that she has religion? I answer, be-
cause in Missouri, and as far as I have any knowl-
edge of slavery in the other States, the religious
teaching consists in teaching the slave that he must
never strike a white man ; that God made him for
a slave ; and that, when whipped, he must not find
fault, — for the Bible says, "He that knoweth his
master's will, and doeth it not, shall be beaten with

84 NARRATIVE OF THE

many stripes ! " And slaveholders find such religion
very profitable to them.

After leaving the steamer Otto, I resided at
home, in Mr. Willi's family, and again began to
lay my plans for making my escape from slavery.
The anxiety to be a freeman would not let me rest
day or night. I would think of the northern cities
thai I had heard so much about; — of Canada,
where so many of my acquaintances had found
refuge. I would dream at night that I was in
Canada, a freeman, and on waking in the morning,
weep to find myself so sadly mistaken.

"I would think of Victoria's domain,
And in a moment I seemed to be there I

But the fear of being taken again,
Soon hurried me back to despair."

Mr. Willi treated me better than Dr. Young
ever had ; but instead of making me contented and
happy, it only rendered me the more miserable, for
it enabled me better to appreciate liberty. Mr.
Willi was a man who loved money as most men
do, and without looking for an opportunity to sell
me, he found one in the offer of Captain Enoch
Price, a steamboat owner and commission mer-

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 85

chant, living in the city of St. Louis. Captain
Price tendered seven hundred dollars, which was
two hundred more than Mr. Willi had paid. He
therefore thought best to accept the offer. I was
wanted for a carriage driver, and Mrs. Price was
very much pleased with the captain's bargain. His
family consisted besides of one child. He had
three servants besides myself — one man and two
women.

Mrs. Price was very proud of her servants,
always keeping them well dressed, and as soon as I
had been purchased, she resolved to have a new
carriage. And soon one was procured, and all
preparations were made for a turn-out in grand
style, I being the driver.

One of the female servants was a girl some
eighteen or twenty years of age, named Maria.
Mrs. Price was very soon determined to have us
united, if she could so arrange matters. She
would often urge upon me the necessity of having
a wife, saying that it would be so pleasant for me
to take one in the same family ! But getting mar-
ried, while in slavery, was the last of my thoughts;
and had I been ever so inclined, I should not have

86 NARRATIVE OF THE

married Maria, as my love had already gone in
another quarter. Mrs. Price soon found out that
her efforts at this match-making between Maria
and myself would not prove successful. She also
discovered (or thought she had) that I was rather
partial to a girl named Eliza, who was owned by
Dr. Mills. This induced her at once to endeavor
the purchase of Eliza, so great was her desire to
get me a wife !

Before making the attempt, however, she deemed
it best to talk to me a little upon the subject of
love, courtship, and marriage. Accordingly one
afternoon she called me into her room — telling me
to take a chair and sit down. I did so, thinking it
rather strange, for servants are not very often asked
thus to sit down in the same room with the master
or mistress. She said that she had found out that
I did not care enough about Maria to marry her. I
told her that was true. She then asked me if
there was not a girl in the city that I loved. Well,
now, this was coming into too close quarters with
me ! People, generally, don't like to tell their love
stories to everybody that may think fit to ask about
them, and it was so with me. But, after blushing

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 87

awhile and recovering myself, I told her that I did
not want a wife. She then asked me, if I did not
think something of Eliza. I told her that I did.
She then said that if I wished to marry Eliza, she
would purchase her if she could.

I gave but little encouragement to this proposi-
tion, as I was determined to make another trial to
get my liberty, and I knew that if I should have a
wife, I should not be willing to leave her behind ;
and if I should attempt to bring her with me, the
chances would be difficult for success. However,
Eliza was purchased, and brought into the family.

88 NARRATIVE OF THE

CHAPTER XII.

But the more I thought of the trap laid by Mrs.
Price to make me satisfied with my new home, by
getting me a wife, the more I determined never to
marry any woman on earth until I should get my
liberty. But this secret I was compelled to keep to
myself, which placed me in a very critical position.
I must keep upon good terms with Mrs. Price and
Eliza. I therefore promised Mrs. Price that I
would marry EHza ; but said that I was not then
ready. And I had to keep upon good terms with
Eliza, for fear that Mrs. Price would find out that I
did not intend to get married.

I have here spoken of marriage, and it is very
common among slaves themselves to talk of it. And
it is common for slaves to be married ; or at least
have the marriage ceremony performed. But there
is no such thing as slaves being lawfully married.
There has never yet a case occurred where a slave

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 89

has been tried for bigamy. The man may have as
many women as he wishes, and the women as
many men ; and the law takes no cognizance of
such acts among slaves. And in fact some mas-
ters, when they have sold the husband from the
wife, compel her to take another.

There lived opposite Captain Price's, Doctor
Farrar, well known in St. Louis. He sold a man
named Ben, to one of the traders. He also owned
Ben's wife, and in a few days he compelled Sally
(that was her name) to marry Peter, another man
belonging to him. I asked Sally " why she married
Peter so soon after Ben was sold." She said,
"because master made her do it."

Mr. John Calvert, who resided near our place,
had a woman named Lavinia. She was quite
young, and a man to whom she was about to be
married was sold, and carried into the country near
St. Charles, about twenty miles from St. Louis.
Mr. Calvert wanted her to get a husband ; but she
had resolved not to marry any other man, and she
refused. Mr. Calvert whipped her in such a man-
ner that it was thought she would die. Some of
the citizens had him arrested, but it was soon

90 NARRATIVE OF THE

hushed up. And that was the last of it. The
woman did not die, but it would have been the
same if she had.

Captain Price purchased me in the month of
October, and I remained with him until December,
when the family made a voyage to New Orleans, in
a boat owned by himself, and named the " Chestei*."
I served on board, as one of the stewards. On
arriving at New Orleans, about the middle of the
month, the boat took in freight for Cincinnati ;
and it was decided that the family should go up the
river in her, and what was of more interest to me,
I was to accompany them.

The long looked for opportunity to make my
escape from slavery was near at hand.

Captain Price had some fears as to the propriety
of taking me near a free State, or a place where it
was Ukely I could run away, with a prospect of
liberty. He asked me if I had ever been in a free
State. '-Oh yes," said I, "I have been in Ohio;
my master carried me into that State once, but I
never liked a free State."

It was soon decided that it would be safe to
take me with them, and what made it more safe,

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 91

Eliza was on the boat with us, and Mrs. Price,
to try me, asked if I thought as much as ever of
Ehza. I told her that Eliza was very dear to me
indeed, and that nothing but death should part us.
It was the same as if we were married. This had
the desired effect. The boat left New Orleans, and
proceeded up the river.

I had at different times obtained little sums of
money, which I had reserved for a " rainy day." I
procured some cotton cloth, and made me a bag to
carry provisions in. The trials of the past were all
lost in hopes for the future. The love of liberty,
that had been burning in my bosom for years, and
had been well nigh extinguished, was now resusci-
tated. At night, when all around was peaceful, I
would walk the decks, meditating upon my happy
prospects.

I should have stated, that before leaving St. Louis,
I went to an old man named Frank, a slave, owned
by a Mr. Sarpee. This old man was very distin-
guished (not only among the slave population, but
also the whites) as a fortune-teller. He was about
seventy years of age, something over six feet high,
and very slender. Indeed, he was so small around

92 NARRATIVE OF THE

his body that it looked as though it was not strong
enough to hold up his head.

Uncle Frank was a very great favorite with the
young ladies, who would go to him in great num-
bers to get their fortunes told. And it was gene-
rally believed that he could really penetrate into
the mysteries of futurity. Whether true or not, he
had the name, and that is about half of what one
needs in this gullible age. I found Uncle Frank
seated in the chimney corner, about ten o'clock at
night. As soon as I entered, the old man left his
seat. I watched his movement as well as I could
by the dim light of the fire. He soon lit a lamp,
and coming up, looked me full in the face, saying,
" Well, my son, you have come to get uncle to tell
your fortune, have you ? " '' Yes," said I. But
how the old man should know what I had come for,
I could not tell. However, I paid the fee of
twenty-five cents, and he commenced by looking
into a gourd, filled with water. Whether the old
man was a prophet,' or the son of a prophet, I
cannot say ; but there is one thing certain, many of
his predictions were verified.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 93

I am no believer in soothsaying; yet I am some-
times at a loss to know how Uncle Frank could tell
so accurately what would occur in the future.
Among the many things he told was one which was
enough to pay me for all the trouble of hunting him
up. It was that I should bejree! He further
said, that in trying to get my liberty, I would meet
with many severe trials. I thought to myself, any
fool could tell me that !

The first place in which we landed in a free
State was Cairo, a small village at the mouth of the
Ohio river. We remained here but a few hours,
when we proceeded to Louisville. After unloading
some of the cargo, the boat started on her upward
trip. The next day was the first of January. I
had looked forward to New Year's day as the com-
mencement of a new era in the history of my life.
I had decided upon leaving the peculiar institution
that day.

During the last night that I served in slavery, I
did not close my eyes a single moment. When
not thinking of the future, my mind dwelt on the
past. The love of a dear mother, a dear sister, and
three dear brothers, yet living, caused me to shed

94 NARRATIVE OF THE

many tears. If I could only have been assured of
their being dead, I should have felt satisfied ; but
I imagined I saw my dear mother in the cotton-
field, followed by a merciless task-master, and no
one to speak a consoling word to her ! I beheld
my dear sister in the hands of a slave-driver, and
compelled to submit to his cruelty ! None but one
placed in such a situation can for a moment imagine
the intense agony to which these reflections subject-
ed me.

,IFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 95

CHAPTER XIII.

At last the time for action arrived. The boat
landed at a point which appeared to me the place
of all others to start from. I found that it would
be impossible to carry anything with me, but what
was upon my person. I had some provisions, and
a single suit of clothes, about half worn. When
the boat was discharging her cargo, and the passen-
gers engaged carrying their baggage on and off
shore, I improved the opportunity to convey myself
with my little effects on land. Taking up a trunk,
I went up the wharf, and was soon out of the
crowd. I made directly for the woods, where I
remained until night, knowing well that I could not
travel, even in the State of Ohio, during the day,
without danger of being arrested.

I had long since made up my mind that I would
not trust myself in the hands of any man, white or
colored. The slave is brought up to look upon

96 NARRATIVE OF THE

every white man as an enemy to him and his race ;
and twenty-one years in slavery had taught me that
there were traitors, even among colored people.
After dark, I emerged from the woods into a nar-
row path, which led me into the main travelled
road. But I knew not which way to go. I did
not know North from South, East from West. I
looked in vain for the North Star ; a heavy cloud
hid it from my view. I walked up and down the
road until near midnight, when the clouds disap-
peared, and I welcomed the sight of my friend,
— truly the slave's friend, — the North Star !

As soon as I saw it, I knew my course, and
before daylight I travelled twenty or twenty-five
miles. It being in the winter, I suffered intensely
from the cold ; being without an overcoat, and my
other clothes rather thin for the season. I was
provided with a linder-box, so that I could make
up a fire when necessary. And but for this, I should
certainly have frozen to death ; for I was deter-
mined not to go to any house for shelter. I knew
of a man belonging to Gen. Ashly, of St. Louis,
who had run away near Cincinnati, on the way to
Washington, but had been caught and carried

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 97

back into slavery ; and I felt that a similar fate
awaited me, should I be seen by any one. I trav-
elled at night, and lay by during the day.

On the fourth day, my provisions gave out, and
then what to do I could not tell. Have something
to eat, I must ; but how to get it was the question !
On the first night after my food was gone, I went
to a barn on the road-side, and there found some
ears of corn. I took ten or twelve of them, and
kept on my journey. During the next day, while
in the woods, I roasted my corn and feasted upon it,
thanking God that I was so well provided for.

My escape to a land of freedom now appeared
certain, and the prospects of the future occupied a
great part of my thoughts. What should be my
occupation, was a subject of much anxiety to me ;
and the next thing what should be my name ? I
have before stated that my old master. Dr. Young,
had no children of his own, but had with him a
nephew, the son. of his brother, Benjamin Young.
When this boy was brought to Doctor Young, his
name being William, the same as mine, my mother
was ordered to change mine to something else.
This, at the time, I thought to be one of the most
7

98 NARRATIVE OF THE

cruel acts that could be committed upon my rights ;
and I received several very severe whippings for
telling people that my name was William, after
orders were given to change it. Though young, I
was old enough to place a high appreciation upon
my name. It was decided, however, to call me
" Sandford," and this name I was known by, not
only upon my master's plantation, but up to the
time that I made my escape. I was sold under the
name of Sandford.

But as soon as the subject came to my mind, I
resolved on adopting my old name of William, and
let Sandford go by the board, for I always hated it.
Not because there was anything peculiar in the
name ; but because it had been forced upon me.
It is sometimes common at the south, for slaves to
take the name of their masters. Some have a
legitimate right to do so. But I always detested
the idea of being called by the name of either of
my masters. And as for my father, I would rather
have adopted the name of " Friday," and been
known as the servant of some Robinson Crusoe,
than to have taken his name. So I was not only
hunting for my liberty, but also hunting for a name ;

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 99

though I regarded the latter as of little conse-
quence, if I could but gain the former. Travelling
along the road, I would sometimes speak to myself,
sounding my name over, by way of getting used to
it, before I should arrive among civilized human
beings. On the fifth or sixth day, it rained very
fast, and it froze about as fast as it fell, so that my
clothes were one glare of ice. I travelled on at
night until I became so chilled and benumbed —
the wind blowing into my face — that I found it
impossible to go any further, and accordingly took
shelter in a barn, where I was obhged to walkabout
to keep from freezing.

I have ever looked upon that night as the most
eventful part of my escape from slavery. Nothing
but the providence of God, and that old barn, saved
me from freezing to death. I received a very
severe cold, which settled upon my lungs, and from
time to time my feet had been frost-bitten, so that
it was with difficulty I could walk. In this situa-
tion I travelled two days, when I found that I must
seek shelter somewhere, or die.

The thought of death was nothing frightful to
me, compared with that of being caught, and again

100 NARRATIVE OF THE

carried back into slavery. Nothing but the pros-
pect of enjoying liberty could have induced me to
undergo such trials, for

" Behind I left the whips and chains,
Before me were sweet Freedom's plains ! "

This, and this alone, cheered me onward. But I
at last resolved to seek protection from the inclem-
ency of the weather, and therefore I secured myself
behind some logs and brush, intending to wait there
until some one should pass by; for I thought it
probable that I might see some colored person, or,
if not, some one who was not a slaveholder ; for I
had an idea that I should know a slaveholder as
far as I could see him.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 101

CHAPTER XIV.

The first person that passed was a man in a
buggy- wagon. He looked too genteel for me to
hail him. Very soon, another passed by on horse-
back. I attempted speaking to him, but fear made
my voice fail me. As he passed, I left my hiding-
place, and was approaching the road, when I
observed an old man walking towards me, leading a
white horse. He had on a broad-brimmed hat and
a very long coat, and was evidently walking for
exercise. As soon as 1 saw him, and observed his
dress, I thought to myself, " You are the man that I
have been looking for ! " Nor was I mistaken.
He was the very man !

On approaching me, he asked me, '^ if I was not a
slave." I looked at him some time, and then asked
him " if he knew of any one who would help me, as
I was sick." He answered that he would ; but
again asked, if I was not a slave. I told him I

102 NARRATIVE OF THE

was. He then said that I was in a very pro-slavery
neighborhood, and if I would wait until he went
home, he would get a covered wagon for me. I
promised to remain. He mounted his horse, and
was soon out of sight.

After he was gone, I meditated whether to wait
or not; being apprehensive that he had gone for
some one to arrest me. But I finally concluded to
remain until he should return ; removing some few
rods to watch his movements. After a suspense of
an hour and a half or more, he returned with a two
horse covered- wagon, such as are usually seen under
the shed of a Quaker meeting-house on Sundays
and Thursdays ; for the old man proved to be a
Quaker of the George Fox stamp.

He took me to his house, but it was some time
before I could be induced to enter it ; not until the
old lady came out, did I venture into the house. I
thought I saw something in the old lady's cap that
told me I was not only safe, but welcome, in her
house. I was not, however, prepared to receive
their hospitalities. The only fault I found with
them was their being too kind. I had never had a
white man to treat me as an equal, and the idea of

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 103

a white lady waiting on me at the table was still
worse ! Though the table was loaded with the
good things of this life, I could not eat. I thought
if I could only be allowed the privilege of eating in
the kitchen, I should be more than satisfied !

Finding that I could not eat, the old lady, who
was a " Thompsonian," made me a cup of '' com-
position," or '' number six ; " but it was so strong
and hot, that I called it " number seven ! " How-
ever, I soon found myself at home in this family.
On different occasions, when telling these facts, I
have been asked how I felt upon finding myself
regarded as a man by a white family ; especially
just having run away from one. I cannot say that
I have ever answered the question yet.

The fact that I was in all probability a freeman,
sounded in my ears like a charm. I am satisfied
that none but a slave could place such an apprecia-
tion upon liberty as I did at that time. I wanted
to see mother and sister, that I might tell them '' I
was free ! " I wanted to see my fellow slaves in
St. Louis, and let them know that the cliains were
no longer upon my limbs. I wanted to see Captain
Price, and let him learn from my own lips that I

104 NARRATIVE OF THE

was no more a chattel, but a man ! I was anxious,
too, thus to inform Mrs. Price that she must get
another coachman. And I wanted to see Eliza
more than I did either Mr. or Mrs. Price !

The fact that I was a freeman — could walk,
talk, eat and sleep as a man, and no one to stand
over me with the blood-clotted cowhide — all this
made me feel that I was not myself.

The kind friend that had taken me in was named
Wells Brown. He was a devoted friend of the
slave ; but was very old, and not in the enjoyment
of good health. After being by the fire awhile, I
found that my feet had been very much frozen. I
was seized with a fever which threatened to confine
me to my bed. But my Thompsonian friends soon
raised me, treating me as kindly as if I had been
one of their own children. I remained with them
twelve or fifteen days, during which time they
made me some clothing, and the old gentleman
purchased me a pair of boots.

I found that I was about fifty or sixty miles from
Dayton, in the State of Ohio, and between one and
two hundred miles from Cleaveland, on lake Erie,
a place I was desirous of reaching on my way to

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 105

Canada. This I know will sound strangely to the
ears of people in foreign lands, but it is neverthe-
less true. An American citizen was fleeing from a
Democratic, Republican, Christian government, to
receive protection under the monarchy of Great
Britain. While the people of the United States
boast of their freedom, they at the same time keep
three millions of their own citizens in chains ; and
while I am seated here in sight of Bunker Hill
Monument, writing this narrative, I am a slave, and
no law, not even in Massachusetts, can protect me
from the hands of the slaveholder !

Before leaving this good Quaker friend, he in-
quired what my name was besides William. I told
him that I had no other name. " Well," said he,
^' thee must have another name. Since thee has
got out of slavery, thee has become a man, and
men always have two names."

I told him that he was the first man to extend the
hand of friendship to me, and I would give him the
privilege of naming me.

^' If I name thee," said he, " I shall call thee
Wells Brown, after myself."

" But," said I, '' I am not wilhng to lose my

106 NARRATIVE OF THE

name of William. As it was taken from me once
against my will, I am not willing to part with it
again upon any terms."

" Then," said he, " I will call thee William Wells
Brown."

" So be it," said I ; and I have been known by
that name ever since I left the house of my first
white friend. Wells Brown.

After giving me some little change, I again
started for Canada. In four days I reached a public
house, and went in to warm myself. I there
learned that some fugitive slaves had just passed
through the place. The men in the bar-room were
talking about it, and I thought that it must have
been myself they referred to, and I was therefore
afraid to start, fearing they would seize me ; but I
finally mustered courage enough, and took my
leave. As soon as I was out of sight, I went into
the woods, and remained there until night, when I
again regained the road, and travelled on until the
next day.

Not having had any food for nearly two days, I
was faint with hunger, and was in a dilemma what
to do, as the little cash supplied me by my adopted

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 107

father, and which had contributed to my comfort,
was now all gone. I however concluded to go to
a farm-house, and ask for something to eat. On
approaching the door of the first one presenting
itself, I knocked, and was soon met by a man who
asked me what I wanted. I told him that I would
like something to eat. He asked where I was
from, and where I was going. I replied that I had
come some way, and was going to Cleaveland.

After hesitating a moment or two, he told me that
he could give me nothing to eat, adding, " that if I
would work, I could get something to eat."

I felt bad, being thus refused something to sustain
nature, but did not dare tell him that I was a slave.

Just as I was leaving the door, with a heavy
heart, a woman, who proved to be the wife of this
gentleman, came to the door, and asked her husband
what I wanted? He did not seem inclined to
inform her. She therefore asked me herself. I
told her that I had asked for something to eat.
After a few other questions, she told me to come
in, and that she would give me something to eat.

I walked up to the door, but the husband re-
mained in the passage, as if unwilling to let me
enter.

108 NARRATIVE OF THE

She asked him two or three times to get out of
the way, and let me in. But as he did not move,
she pushed him on one side, bidding me walk in 1
I was never before so glad to see a woman push a
man aside! Ever since that act, I have been in
favor of " woman's rights ! "

After giving me as much food as I could eat, she
presented me with ten cents, all the money then at
her disposal, accompanied with a note to a friend,
a few miles further on the road. Thanking this
angel of mercy from an overflowing heart, I pushed
on my way, and in three days arrived at Cleave-
land, Ohio.

Being an entire stranger in this place, it was
diflicult for me to find where to stop. I had no
money, and the lake being frozen, I saw that I
must remain until the opening of navigation, or go
to Canada by way of Buffalo. But believing my-
self to be somewhat out of danger, I secured an
engagement at the Mansion House, as a table
waiter, in payment for my board. The proprietor,
however, whose name was E. M. Segur, in a short
time, hired me for twelve dollars per month ; on
which terms I remained until spring, when I found
good employment on board a lake steamboat.

LIFE OF WILLIAM W. BROWN. 109

I purchased some books, and at leisure moments
perused them with considerable advantage to my-
self. While at Cleaveland, I saw, for the first time,
an anti-slavery newspaper. It was the " Genius of
Universal Emancipation,^^ published by Benjamin
Lundy, and though I had no home, I subscribed
for the paper. It was my great desire, being out
of slavery myself, to do what I could for the eman-
cipation of my brethren yet in chains, and while on
Lake Erie, I found many opportunities of " helping
their cause along."

It is well known, that a great number of fugitives
make their escape to Canada, by way of Cleave-
land; and wiiile on the lake, I always made
arrangement to carry them on the boat to Buffalo
or Detroit, and thus effect their escape to the
*' promised land." The friends of the slave, know-
ing that I would transport them without charge,
never failed to have a delegation when the boat
arrived at Cleaveland. I have sometimes had
four or five on board, at one time.

In the year 1842, I conveyed, from the first of
May to the first of December, sixty-nine fugitives
over Lake Erie to Canada. In 1843, I visited

110 NARRATIVE OF WILLIAM W, BROWN.

Maiden, in Upper Canada, and counted seventeen,
in that small village, who owed their escape to my
humble efforts.

Soon after coming North, I subscribed for the
Liberator, edited by that champion of freedom,
William Lloyd Garrison. I labored a season to
promote the temperance cause among the colored
people, but for the last three years, have been
pleading for the victims of American slavery.

William Wells Brown.
Boston, Mass., June, 1847.

CONGRESS

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